Sewing a peony on the silken kerchief
I think of your single-lidded eyes
What delights do they behold?
Rolling vales misted beneath the mountain
Shadows veiling the moon on a cold autumn night
A candle wavering in the room above the inn
Smelling faintly of smoke and plum wine
Or perhaps, you only seek the end of a long road
Your body swaying in the saddle on the way home